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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672131">fire lines</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninzied/pseuds/ninzied'>ninzied</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, NSFW, frank's work specifically, hard hat karen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:22:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninzied/pseuds/ninzied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’d never pegged himself for an office space kind of guy. He prefers to be out there, in the midst of things with the others—so he spends most of his days doing just that, saving all that bureaucratic bullshit for his lunch breaks in his office trailer.</p><p>He’s heading there now, after a rougher-than-usual morning spent on some stubborn electrical wiring. He thinks of all the other kinds of work waiting for him in his trailer and groans, half-wishing he’d packed a beer with his sandwich today.</p><p>He shields his gaze from the midday sun, and then he turns, and he sees her.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle/Karen Page</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fire lines</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/mycanonnevercame/gifts">mycanonnevercame</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>based on a prompt for distracting work kisses.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frank usually works through his lunch breaks.</p><p>He used to take them as far away from—well, everything—as he could, finding himself a lone edge on the roof or some corner of a vacant floor to eat his meal in relative quiet. But ever since Curt roped him into this management job, everything's always coming to him whether he likes it or not.</p><p>And he doesn't <em>not</em> like it, as it turns out.</p><p>It's a small construction company, a kind of in-between place for hard-up vets to get work, either settling there or to steady their feet for something else that's more suited to them. The work feels meaningful in that way. Karen had recently coerced a beat reporter from the Bulletin's local business section into writing up a piece on them, and the glowing review brought in more and more jobs for his guys. Frank has found it surprisingly gratifying, minus all the paperwork.</p><p>So much goddamn paperwork.</p><p>He'd never pegged himself for an office space kind of guy. He prefers to be out there, in the midst of things with the others—so he spends most of his days doing just that, saving all that bureaucratic bullshit for his lunch breaks in his office trailer.</p><p>He's heading there now, after a rougher-than-usual morning spent on some stubborn electrical wiring. He thinks of all the other kinds of work waiting for him in his trailer and groans, half-wishing he'd packed a beer with his sandwich today.</p><p>He shields his gaze from the midday sun, and then he turns, and he sees her.</p><p>She's in her kitten heels, a pencil skirt and cream-colored blouse. It's so unusual to see her at his place of work—their schedules hardly ever seem to align these days, and he spends a lot of them just fucking missing her. For a second he thinks he could almost have imagined her there, waving goodbye to one of his workers, and smiling.</p><p>Frank allows himself another moment to give her a once-over from afar, his gaze moving up her body and lingering. Her blonde hair is pale in the sunlight, flashing golden when a breeze sifts through the strands. And then he lets out a laugh, because there, perched on the top of her head, is a bright yellow hard hat.</p><p>The name PETE comes into focus as he quickens his step, sharpied onto the back of the hat in his own familiar scrawl. Karen turns to give him a fondly exasperated look as he comes up to her, sliding a hand over the small of her back in greeting.</p><p>"Shouldn't you be the one wearing this?" she asks him.</p><p>"Looks better on you," he says, kissing her cheek as she rolls her eyes good-naturedly at him. He takes her hand, tugging her up the steps to his trailer. "Everything okay? You never take lunch."</p><p>"Neither do you," she counters, and he has to concede her point. "And everything's fine. I just thought we could eat together for a change."</p><p>Her work bag is already tucked up against some filing cabinets—Christ, when did he become the guy who owned filing cabinets?—and there, spread over his desk, is lunch. A small charcuterie plate, two cups of coffee, and the sandwich that she knows he likes from Nelson's, with the thick, crispy bread and extra sauces on the side.</p><p>"Shit, Karen." He laughs, dragging her in for a proper kiss this time. "This looks incredible. Thank you."</p><p>The meal he'd slapped together from grocery store cold cuts that morning pales in comparison. He tells her as much, opens the mini fridge behind his desk to show her, and finds a six-pack of beer stowed inside by his food.</p><p>"For later," says Karen.</p><p>He squeezes her hand. "You're a godsend, you know that?"</p><p>The pile of papers on his desk isn't getting any smaller—in fact, he's almost certain it's grown since he last saw it this morning—but he figures it will have to wait. He's starving, and she's looking so irresistible to him, with her smile, and his hard hat knocked slightly askew on her head.</p><p>He kisses her again, pulling out an extra seat for her before walking over to the other side of his desk.</p><p>And then Karen picks up her work bag and pulls out her laptop.</p><p>"Is this okay?" she asks, seeing him blink in surprise at her. "I know you're behind on your work—"</p><p>He scrubs a hand over his nape, feeling sheepish that she's caught him out. "That obvious, huh."</p><p>"I have a deadline anyway," she tells him, with a rueful smile of her own. "But it would be nice to at least be in the same room as you."</p><p>Fuck, if he wasn't so damn in love with her already.</p><p>"C'mere," he says gruffly, and leans over his desk, their mouths meeting somewhere in the middle. "I'll make it up to you, I promise."</p><p>"I'm not worried about it," she says, nudging him gently away and powering on her laptop.</p><p>They settle into an easy rhythm, a silence that's so comfortable he almost forgets they're in his office and not at their dining table back home. He practically inhales his sandwich before chugging down his cup of coffee, and then he starts snacking on the charcuterie plate as he flips through a stack of ledgers and bank statements.</p><p>Karen's typing away on her computer, brow furrowed together under his hard hat. She's slipped off her shoes, resting her feet on the edge of his chair. They're a little chilly, so he pulls them into his lap to warm them, massaging her calf as he works. She makes a small, satisfied sound, shifting forward in her seat. Otherwise, the only indication that she's even aware of him being there is to reach across his desk and brush a few crumbs from his beard before returning to her keyboard.</p><p>At some point, though, she stops typing.</p><p>Frank doesn't notice right away—she's still staring intently at her screen, and he's just managed to untangle some confusing orders for extra plywood. But he does notice when she presses her toes to the inner part of his thigh and starts rubbing small circles into the denim.</p><p>He glances up at her.</p><p>She's still clicking around on her screen, a piece of fruit in her other hand. She hasn't lost that look of intense concentration she always gets when she's researching a piece, but then her foot ventures closer, and there's nothing unintentional about that, either.</p><p>He scratches some updates into a ledger, and almost drops his pen when Karen sneaks her foot the rest of the way between his thighs. His blood rushes south, pooling heat straight through to his dick, and this was—fuck, if this wasn't what she'd been planning all along.</p><p>"Karen," he cautions her lowly. His voice sounds hoarse, even to him, thick and rough with desire that he hadn't meant to give voice to.</p><p>She finally looks up at him then. Without breaking contact, she parts her lips around a strawberry, biting slowly down.</p><p>"Something wrong?" she asks him.</p><p>He moves his hand up her calf, cupping under her knee. His chair wheels slightly forward with the motion, bringing her foot that much closer to him. She curls her toes around his hardening dick, and he swallows.</p><p>"Thought you had work to do," he says.</p><p>She smiles. "Just multitasking."</p><p>And then she turns back to her goddamn computer, and starts scrolling.</p><p>Frank stares blankly down at his ledger, trying to remember where he'd left off. Plywood or some shit. Yeah, that sounds right. He retrieves his pen, poising it over the page. He blinks through the haze of desire, the clenching ache of his growing arousal as Karen kneads more firmly at his crotch. But the numbers continue to swim out of order before him, refusing to take any more enlightening form.</p><p>His other hand is somehow halfway up the back of her thigh now, gripping harder than he'd realized. As if he's drawn to her, he wheels his chair closer, sliding his palm further, and further, and—</p><p>"Oh!" says Karen, her knee knocking up against wood when he winds up bringing his chair in too close, crowding her legs beneath the desk.</p><p>"Shit. Sorry." The moment jolts him back enough to clear his head a little, and he's wheeling away, putting some distance between them. "You okay?"</p><p>She crosses her legs and gives him an amused kind of smile. "I'm fine, Frank."</p><p>"Okay." He doesn't seem able to manage out more than one or two words at a time. He's hard as nails, jeans tight around his erection as he gazes across the table at her. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and she's biting into her lower lip as she turns away.</p><p>She's not unaffected by all of this. Not by a long shot.</p><p>Shit, if that doesn't make him want her even more.</p><p>Her gaze remains carefully fixed on her laptop screen as Frank stands up. He walks over to the trailer door, turning the lock into place with a click. She still has her back to him when he turns around, but her body is poised as if waiting for him, the air between them thick with anticipation.</p><p>He bends his mouth over the curve of her throat.</p><p>There's an audible hitch in her chest, and she sounds breathier than usual as she tells him, "Frank. Some of us have work to do."</p><p>"Didn't you say something about multitasking?" he murmurs, tonguing a kiss to her jawline. The hard hat takes some navigating around, but he's loath to remove it just yet.</p><p>"Mm. I guess you have a point." She inclines her head toward him, lips parting into his kiss. He tastes strawberry on her tongue, and the bittersweetness of their coffee. He half-pulls her up from her chair, and she rises to meet him, their bodies pressing fully together.</p><p>Karen pulls back for a second. "You're sure no one's going to—?"</p><p>"Nah," says Frank in between kissing her. "They know not to bother me when I'm doing the, uh—" his throat bobs as she puts her hands on his belt buckle, Christ he is so hard for her "—the paperwork."</p><p>"Right," says Karen, teasingly. She undoes his belt before starting in on his jeans. "The paperwork."</p><p>He kisses her back up against one of the filing cabinets, groping around her waist for her zipper. It wouldn't be the first time he's ruined one of her skirts by being overeager, so he tugs it off of her as patiently as he can manage before making quicker work of her underthings.</p><p>Frank leaves her blouse on—the fact they're about to do this at work is not lost on him, so this seems like a fair enough compromise. He slides his palms beneath the silk fabric to glide over her ribcage, under her bra to cup her breasts as she gets his pants down past his knees.</p><p>A full-body shudder courses through him as she takes his dick in hand, stroking him up and down. He squeezes her breast, moving his other hand down to slip in between her thighs.</p><p>"Fuck, you're wet," he groans into his mouth, and eases two fingers inside.</p><p>She gasps, and the hard hat knocks back against the top edge of the filing cabinet. Her hand flies automatically up to adjust it, another soft, moaning sound working its way out of her.</p><p>"Here, I got it." Frank replaces the hat and palms the back of her head instead, feeling the cool cabinet metal against his skin. "Really liked you in that, though."</p><p>She hums out a laugh. "I could tell," she says, and her breathing shallows as he rubs at her clit with his other hand, a quick, teasing stroke of his thumb that has her arching back again.</p><p>"You good?" he murmurs, kissing her neck and feeling her low, throaty <em>yes</em> in response. He removes his hand to take hold of his dick then, sinking the tip of it just between her folds.</p><p>He has to bend at the knees a little, and she stretches onto her toes as he presses in, and out, and in again. He rocks into her inch by inch, until he's balls-deep inside her and halfway to breathless from the sensation of it. He adjusts his hold, cupping a hand around her bare ass to help brace her leg up before thrusting up inside her again.</p><p>The position is a little awkward at first, and it takes another few moments of adjusting their bodies to find a good rhythm. But then it gets—God, more than good—striking the perfect balance of movement between them, and Frank begins pumping into her in earnest, groaning softly against her skin.</p><p>She clutches at him with a sigh, pulling his mouth up to hers for a brief, tongue-filled kiss. The air goes thin between them as their lips part, and all they can do is gasp into each other as the pleasure between them mounts and mounts to something exquisite. Something that's indescribably good.</p><p>Her leg starts to give just a little, and she grips at whatever she can for purchase, Frank's body pinning her there to the filing cabinet with the weight of each thrust into her. The contents of the cabinet give a slight rattle behind them, in parallel with the other, softer sounds of their lovemaking.</p><p>Frank buries his face into the slope of her shoulder, feeling that telltale ache of heat spreading up through every nerve of his body. He pounds into her harder, listening for the snags in her own breathing, adjusting his angle until she's clenching around him, tight, and hot, and close, so close—</p><p>"Frank—mm—oh, Frank—"</p><p>He braces his hand over her nape as she comes, her body stiffening and rocking back against the cabinet. Frank sucks a shaky kiss to her pulse point, thrumming with the need for his own release. He pushes into her once, twice, three times more before everything is splintering apart, and he's coming with a goan, spilling into her.</p><p>He doesn't know how long they stand there holding each other, hips still pulsing together as they chase those last few tingling moments of orgasm. Everything seems to stand still with them, including time itself. Frank leans half his weight into the filing cabinet, his arm still cradled around Karen's head as their breathing finally slows together.</p><p>She eventually eases back onto both feet, and he bumps his forehead into hers, mouthing kisses over her skin while she retrieves a tissue from his desk and wipes them both clean. They help each other back into their clothes, Frank grazing a hand up the length of her thigh as he goes, reluctant to fully release her.</p><p>After they're dressed, he reaches for her again, pulling her into his arms. "Hey," he says.</p><p>Karen's biting back a smile. "Hi," she says back, touching his face, threading her fingers through his hair.</p><p>He lowers his mouth to hers, kissing her hard and slow the way that he does when they're at home in bed together, when it feels like they have all the time in the world.</p><p>They could, he thinks. They do.</p><p>She sighs regretfully after a moment, putting a hand over his chest. "I should probably let you get back to doing real work."</p><p>"Thinking about taking a half-day, actually," says Frank, trailing his knuckles up her arm.</p><p>Karen tilts her head at him, unable to contain a full smile now. "Are you," she says.</p><p>"Yeah, why not? Grab a beer, a patch of grass by the water…" He cups the side of her face in his hand. "You can bring your laptop, and uh." He gives her a crooked smile of his own. "It can be my turn to distract you from your work."</p><p>She looks at him with mock seriousness. "You say that like it would be so easy."</p><p>"All right," says Frank, stepping away, "well, I got a shit ton of paperwork waiting on me, so I better—"</p><p>Karen takes his hand firmly in hers, drawing him back for another kiss.</p><p>The paperwork can keep on waiting.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading :):) hope you enjoyed!</p><p>this fic is also on <a href="https://ninzied.tumblr.com/post/635260965024301056/fire-lines-based-on-a-prompt-for-distracting-work">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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